Cult Following
by LadyEpic101
Summary: The Horseman are sent to Earth to deal with the threat of a group of rogue angels and their brainwashed cult. They meet an interesting young woman named Blythe, who becomes their designated guide to dealing with the cult. An unforeseen misfortune befalls our heroine, prompting a certain Pale Rider to rescue her soul. DeathxOC. Finished, tell me if you want a sequel.
1. Fire in the Sky

'Twas a quiet and pleasant afternoon when Blythe was sipping tea on her upper deck. She enjoyed her small plot of land. It was a small canyon located a ways into the Santa Cruz mountains. The entire area was covered in beautiful, towering redwoods. Her home, built by her great-grandfather, was made out of the trees that were cut down for the construction of Highway 17. It was far too large and spacious for one woman to upkeep, but Blythe made due. She made most of her money writing bullshit self-help books that suburban mothers ate up. The rest was in stocks.

But that's not the story I'm telling you.

For you see, there was not a single human being for five miles from Blythe's forest. Which made it the perfect place for the Horseman to land.

A bright light in the clear skies caused the young woman to look up from her tea. Four balls of fire fell from the sky, on a collision course with her forest. One was red, one white, one was black, and the last was, pale. There was no better term for it. It was pale.

Blythe continued to sip her tea, watching as the fireballs crashed into her trees, upsetting hundred year old sentinels. Sighing, she set down her teacup, only for it to be knocked over by shock waves from the impact.

"I hope it's aliens this time."

* * *

Death groaned and sat up. He put a hand to his head, then stood, looking about for his brothers and sister. He spied War off to his left, then Strife and Fury a short distance away. Good. They could start on their mission right away-

"Hello,"

_Damn._

The pale rider turned his head and his gaze settled on a human female. She looked at him, then past him at War, then past him at Strife and Fury.

"So," she began, "Do you usually fall from the sky and kill innocent trees, or is this new for all of us?"

In the blink of an eye, Redemption was pointed at her head.

"Stupid human. Don't you know who we are?" Strife cocked his head to the side and sneered.

"Well, let's see. There aren't any UFO's around, so you aren't aliens. There's four of you, and he," she inclined her head towards the eldest Horseman, "Is very obviously Death, and I'm assuming the one with the hood is War, so by that logic, you must be the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, disregarding your lack of horses. And," she added, "There is no apocalypse,"

"Lucky guess," Strife holstered his weapon and stepped back, "I'm Strife, and this is Fury," He indicated himself and his sister.

"Nice to meet you, I suppose. I'm Blythe, but why did you hurt my trees?" Blythe was rather intent on getting an answer for that.

"Why are we wasting our time? Let's just get out of here and begin our search!" Fury was getting rather impatient. She had important things to do, and would rather their task was done in as little time as possible.

"Search for what?" Blythe asked innocently.

"What would we gain from telling you that?" Death responded.

_His voice is sex. _

_Not now brain._

_'Kay. Later._

"What would you lose? If I know what it is you're looking for, I might be able to point you in the right direction. If I don't, I'll send you to someone who does," Death couldn't argue with that.

"We're searching for a group of rogue angels. We have reason to believe that they plan to upset the balance. We have evidence that they-"

"Have formed a cult dedicated to carrying out their orders with unearthly weapons, even if it means certain doom? Yeah, they're right over that ridge- there," she pointed to a steep rise in the East.

"You've had run-ins with them?" War spoke for the first time.

"Eh. I found one being attacked by something that was definitely not a mountain lion. He ran off once I got the thing off of him,"

Blythe noticed the Horseman tense. That couldn't be good.

"Do you think you could show us where that 'thing' was? " Death ordered rather than asked.

"Yeah, it was just over here."

* * *

Strife ran a hand over the dimly glowing sigil on the ground.

"It was definitely created by an angel, but used to summon a demon. Why in damnation..." He trailed off.

"That can wait. We need to bring the angels before the Charred Council," War declared simply.

"But we need to know what we're up against. It'll be a very different fight if there's both angels and demons to worry about," Strife rebuttled.

"The Charred Council will..."

Blythe watched the exchange between the two ancient and powerful beings. She noticed that they were all rather tall, War perhaps a little over seven feet, followed closely by Death, and Strife and Fury could be NBA all-stars. The woman was starting to feel very small.

"Blythe," She was snapped out of her reverie by Death calling her name, "Do you know a way into this cult's base of operations?"

"Uh, yeah, yes I do. There's two. One is by the main road, it's wider but under 24-hour surveillance. The other is a bit narrower and more roundabout, but it's rarely used, from what I've seen," Blythe recounted.

"How narrow are we talking?"

"Just wide enough for a horse,"

Behind his mask, Death grinned.

* * *

It was a fifteen minute walk before the Horseman and their guide reached the trail Blythe spoke of. Death summoned Despair and the other Horseman followed suit. The pale horseman offered Blythe his hand and pulled her into the saddle in front of him. This earned a curious glance from War, but the youngest horseman dismissed it as Death wanting to be the lead. The Horseman set off at a trot, planning to arrive outside the compound in the night. Strife and Fury followed Death, with War bringing up the rear.

Blythe lightly gripped the horn of the saddle. She was a bit surprised that Death's horse had no visible reins. Speaking of Death, she could feel his chest brush against her back whenever he breathed or his horse hopped over a fallen branch or small stream. The sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome.

"So," Death spoke, breaking the silence that had settled over them, "What do you know of this cult? Their numbers, weapons, the layout of the compound, anything,"

"Hmm, they have to have at least a thousand members at this outpost alone. A good chunk of them are women and children, but from what I've seen on the news," Blythe shuddered, causing more contact with Death, "They're just as deadly as the men. The compound is rather sparse and scattered, with most of the living quarters on the far side of the camp from where this trail takes us. We'll be almost directly on top of their main building. There are two big buildings that I think are storehouses of some sort, but I'm really not sure what they're for,"

"How do you know all this?" Death asked skeptically.

"I'm a nosy neighbor."


	2. Looming Horizon

"I'm a nosy neighbor."

Death chuckled quietly at this strange human. First, she had shown no fear when she saw him, deducing his identity right away, even as his brother pointed a gun to her head. She even had the audacity to accuse them of attacking her trees. And now here she was, riding Despair, guiding the Horseman to their goal. Very strange indeed.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when something shot out from beneath Despair's feet. The spectral horse reared, causing Blythe to slide flush against Death. He wrapped his arm around her waist and urged Despair into a gallop, circling tightly back to see what caused the disturbance. A very small, dog like demon worried Ruin, darting around too fast for War to hit. Strife stopped the demon's distraction with a well-placed bullet. Ten more demons ran in from nowhere; this was an ambush.

Death moved his arm from Blythe's waist to her hands, resting atop them. He leaned forward and murmured in her ear:

"Lean forward, keep your head down, and don't let go,"

Blythe didn't question his orders.

Narrowing his eyes, the eldest horseman drew Harvester from its place at his side. In one swing, two demons were cut in half. Fury's whip set three more on fire, while Strife stood atop Conquest and shot from the horse's back. War dealt with two larger demons that had charged in late. Soon, there were no more left. Blythe looked up when she felt the horse stand still beneath her.

None of the Horseman looked worse for wear, though their horses were slightly scratched up. Thunder roared in the distance as the sun quickly set.

"They knew we were coming," War stated.

"Perhaps not, brother. If they had, then they would have relocated or sent a larger force. No, I think we happened upon one of their patrols. They'll soon learn of our presence, however. We need to get out of the open, a storm is coming," Strife suggested. War nodded. He knew that Strife had more tactical knowledge than he.

"Blythe?" Fury looked at the other woman expectantly.

"I may just happen to have a few extra rooms where you can stay until the storm passes,"

"Good. Lead the way."

And with that, the Horseman and their guide turned around and followed the trail back to its beginning, at a brisker pace to outrun the rain.

* * *

It took twenty minutes to reach Blythe's home, and what a home it was. The Horseman were rather surprised by the towering wooden structure. Death and War had to duck down to fit through the initial doorway, but they made it inside. The first room they came to was the kitchen, which was simple but well-stocked. The kitchen opened into the living room where an electric fireplace warmed the house. The upper deck outside was being pelted with rain already.

The upper story of the upper half of the house ended in a railing that looked out over the living room. War would be spending the night in the uppermost room, because it had the largest bed. Fury and Strife would be staying in the two guest rooms on the main floor. Blythe lead Death down a set of stairs to the lower apartment. The lower apartment was a smaller replica of the main house, right down to having a deck outside, with the exception that there was no actual bedroom. Instead, there was a screen that divided part of the upper half-story from the stairs leading up to it. Death would be sleeping there. Blythe would be sleeping on the main floor of the lower apartment.

"Will you be hungry in a few hours?" Blythe asked as Death inspected his new 'room.'

"That depends, are you a good cook?"

"Is prime rib an acceptable meal?"

"If I say yes will we stop talking in questions?" Death chuckled.

"Certainly,"

"Then yes."

* * *

While their meal was cooking, Death, Strife, and War planned their course of action. The brothers sat at the dining table and plotted possible strategies for capturing the angels and demons. Meanwhile, Fury and Blythe leaned against the railing of the upper deck, enjoying the thick fog that had settled during a break in the rain.

"So," Blythe asked, "What exactly are you guys?"

"Hmm?" Fury hummed, "What do you mean? Be specific,"

"Today, I've met demons, and learned that angels exist, but what exactly are you four? You're certainly not quite as ugly as those demons, and you don't have giant white wings..." She trailed off.

"If you must know," Fury sighed, "We are the last of the Nephilim. A mix between angels and demons. And don't pretend that you're not attracted to my older brother," Fury raised her eyebrow as a smirk formed on her lips, "I see the way you look at him when you think he can't see,"

"Wait, what do you mean 'think he can't see'?" Blythe asked too quickly, running a hand through her salt and pepper hair. Her family always started going gray at nineteen.

Fury tilted her head back and laughed.

"Ha! I knew it. Ugh, I will never understand what women see in him. First, half the Nephilim want in his pants, then angels, and now you,"

"Just 'cuz I think he's funny doesn't mean I want in his pants," The human grumbled and quickly turned her attention to the blanketing fog, failing to suppress the blush that crept to her cheeks.

"Mmhmm. Well, you may find out what he thinks of you sooner that you realize," Blythe shot the Nephilim a questioning glance.

"It's mating season. The boys are going to be extra aggressive and, well, you figure it out." Fury sauntered back inside to join the planning, leaving a slackjawed human in her wake. She followed after a few minutes of composing herself.

"Food's done!" Blythe called out. She set out four plates laden with meat, and then her own, normal sized dish. She had asked Fury how much each Horseman preferred to eat, and was none too surprised to discover that War ate the most. Death ate a substantial amount as well, between the two of them she had to cook a separate roast to feed them.

War and Fury dug into their plates almost as soon as they were set down. Strife removed his mask and started to eat as well. He looked like a male copy of Fury. Death was the last to start eating. He stole a glance in Blythe's direction -she looked away just in time- and removed his mask. His eyes and brow were the same as War, though his jaw line and nose were more angular.

_Eat your food, Blythe. _

_Hothothothot._

_Stop thinking about his gorgeous face, or his wonderfully raspy voice, or his adorable wit,_

_Or his great a-_

_You stop that._

_Mating season~ _

Blythe tried to concentrate on eating her food, but couldn't help looking up at Death, trying to memorize his face before he put the mask back on.

It was 9'o' clock when the meal was finished, and Strife, Death, and War retired to their rooms. Blythe made to wash the dishes, but Fury shooed her out, telling her that she needed sleep much more than the Nephilim did. She wandered into the lower apartment, taking up residence on the couch. She assumed that Death was already asleep, so she turned off all the lights and began to type as quietly as she could on her laptop.

(Two hours later)

Blythe stretched and stared at her screen, then shot a glare up at the upper floor. Death had growled and groaned in his sleep, tossing about and making a lot of noise. Frustrated, she slammed the laptop closed and walked out onto the upper deck, not being very quiet about shutting the sliding glass door.

Sighing, the woman stared out into the forest. It was still drizzling, but the deck above stopped much from reaching the one below. Blythe allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts, so much so that she didn't hear the door open, nor the footsteps that approached.

Death set his hands on either side of the woman, so that he was against her back and blocking her escape to the left or right. She jumped slightly, and he chuckled.

"Did I scare you?" He asked, voice husky from sleep.

"No, you startled me," She replied, a bit uncomfortable at her proximity to the Horseman.

Death shifted so that he was looking at Blythe from her side. She turned to see his unmasked face.

"Is there a difference?"

She looked at him, a bit surprised at seeing him unmasked twice in the same day. His features were accentuated by the faint moonlight and framed by his disheveled black hair.

"Come on, it's cold out here,"

Blythe planned on walking inside on by herself, but Death had other plans. He picked her up and easily set her over his shoulder. Needless to say, she was quite astonished. She was even more astonished when he carried her up the stairs to his bed. He set her on the sheets as gently as he could and climbed in after her. She didn't have any time to protest, for she was asleep as soon as she hit the pillow.


	3. Eve of Battle

The sun peeked over the lip of the canyon. Pure light streamed through the nearest trees, leaving the ones on the valley floor in shadow. By the time the sun's rays filtered through the frosted windows in Blythe's home, Death was wide awake. His chin resting atop her head, Death contemplated the woman in his arms. She was truly unique- with her gray hair and fearless attitude. There would probably never be another like her.

Blythe squirmed and made a soft noise, curling closer into Death's embrace. He suppressed a chuckle as he watched her fight for sleep. His burning red eyes watched her face contort in the last throes of the dream world. Suddenly, his heart felt as though it were on fire. After a moment, the feeling passed. He watched her face contort into one of pain as a similar sensation assaulted her.

"_Impossible..." _He whispered, a humorous lilt to his voice.

"What?" Blythe asked sleepily.

"Nothing. Come, let us wake the others," Death unwound his arms from around Blythe's waist. He pulled on his boots and armor, adjusted his mask, and walked upstairs, leaving Blythe to change.

"Put on something warm, we have somewhere to go," he implored as he closed the door.

Blythe rummaged through her closet, throwing on a pair of cargo pants and a dark thermal shirt. She took this time to reflect. Last night, in Death's arms, she dreamed a vivid dream.

_Death stood on the precipice of a frozen mountain. He looked down. A massive battle raged on the icy steppes, Nephilim waging war against a race she did not recognize, save that they resembled the bastard children of penguins and polar bears. _

_Death turned and looked at her, standing behind him. He did not wear his mask, and he looked younger. His hair was choppier, and fell only to his jaw line. His shoulders not quite as wide as they are today. His jaw was slimmer, and, dare she say it, his countenance was softer. His eyes were an even more vivid red, so much so that they almost radiated light. He held out his hand, smiling. His eyes flared. He spoke to her, his voice tender._

_"Let us join in the slaughter, my-" _

That was the moment Blythe awoke. _My what? My friend? My dear? No, _she thought as she ascended the stairs to the main house, _He was going to say something with an 'M'..._

* * *

All four Horseman were ready to leave by the time Blythe reached the living room. Shyly, she grabbed a green apple and followed them outside. Death smiled behind his mask. It was, _endearing_, to see her embarrassed. Suddenly, a crow she had not seen before alighted on Death's shoulder, wickedly curved talons drawing black-red blood. Death hardly acknowledged the wound.

"Dust, what did you see?" The Horseman questioned the bird. Leaving a comet tail of green light, the bird ascended and circled, before flying a short distance north. The bird returned to the Horseman, squawking. War and Fury summoned their fiery steeds and took off, heading towards the trail from yesterday. Strife summoned his horse, covered in armor not dissimilar to his own. Despair cantered out of the ground towards Death, who lifted Blythe onto the saddle before hoisting himself up. Nodding to Strife, he urged his horse into a gallop and began to head along the northeastern road.

Strife followed suit. Thankfully, there were no cyclists on the road today. Blythe noticed this fact before she realized that Death had his right arm wrapped around her. A grin broke out across her face and she didn't know why.

After thirty minutes of riding, Strife broke off into a thicket, dismissing his horse as he did so. Death continued.

"So, what's the plan?" Blythe asked as Death allowed Despair a short rest.

"We plan to attack from all angles at once when night falls. That way, no one will escape, save perhaps the angels if they take to the air before Strife can cripple their wings. War will approach from the West, Fury from the South, Strife from the East, and you and I from the North. But before that, we need to meet someone," he elaborated.

"I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but why am I going with you? I'm just an ordinary human," she questioned.

"Simple. You have already served as our guide, and now you shall serve as a witness to the crimes the angels have committed,"

"But shouldn't your word be enough?"

"Angels have never trusted the Horseman, and this is occurring on Earth, so consider yourself a representative of human kind. Think you're up to the task?" Death chuckled.

"Of course I am, these winged traitors must be punished for taking advantage of idiots!"

Death and Blythe shared a laugh before continuing on their path.

* * *

The sun was over halfway through the vault of the sky when Blythe and Death reached their first destination. It was a rocky cliff overlooking more miles of forest. Death dismissed Despair, carrying Blythe off of the spectral beast. They walked a few yards along the edge before coming to a sigil on the ground.

"Stay behind me, and do not speak to him, no matter what he says to you," Death warned gravely. Blythe was afraid of what might happen if she disobeyed.

"Vulgrim! I would speak with you," Death called.

The ugliest, most wretched, vilest thing that Blythe had ever laid eyes on materialized above the glyph on the ground. It had to be a demon, no question about it. The massive bull-like horns on its head and corpse-like face were definite indicators of that.

"Horseman! What are you doing here, on Earth? The seventh seal has not been broken. And who is this?" Vulgrim glided over to Blythe and circled her.

"What is a human doing in the company of a Rider, I wonder?" Vulgrim clicked his claws together, snickering.

"She is none of your concern. I have business to discuss with you, unless you have suddenly lost your fondness for souls?" Blythe could hear the note of disgust that colored Death's voice.

"Ah, but of course. What do you desire? Goods, or knowledge?" Vulgrim indicated each choice with a tilt of his head.

"What do you know of the demons and fallen angels residing in this forest?"

"Hmm, that depends on how many souls you have to trade. Of course," the demon leered at Blythe, "We could work something else out," his tongue flicked out over his non- existant lips, punctuating his words.

Death side-stepped to block the demon's view of the human.

"Name your price," the Nephilim growled.

" Hmm, two thousand," Vulgrim offered.

"Deal," Death removed an amulet from his belt and tossed it to the demon, who deftly caught it and cradled it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

"Ipos and Ornias are the two responsible for all that has occurred in this forest, and their Order is responsible for the recent strife elsewhere. They have a host of lesser demons at their side, governed by Isares. But be wary, Rider. These three have the power of shapeshifting, and may prove to be more challenging than you expect," the glyph below Vulgrim glowed and the demon sunk into the Earth, having shared all that he knew.

* * *

The waning moon lent its eerie light to the figures stirring beneath the trees. Four hundred humans transported supplies to large, unmarked moving vans. Six hundred more bowed and prayed at the feet of three figures. To the right stood Ipos, donning a helmet with a lion's likeness carved into it. In the center stood Ornias, addressing the crowd at his feet with arms upheld and black wings extended to their fullness. Finally, on the left stood Isares, her massive backwards flowing horns and inverted wings the most obvious indicators of her demonic nature.

Behind the cover of trees, Death whispered into Blythe's ear. The two crouched behind a rise in the earth that was blanketed by thick brush. Blythe nodded and walked to a large,hollow stump, crouched over and low to the ground. Almost silently, she clambered up the gutted core before perching on the broken ledge. She was nearly invisible under the cover of the trees, and could only be seen if you were scanning closely. From her roost, she could clearly see the compound and the three beings standing over her kind. The woman looked down to Death and nodded.

Dust alighted on Death's shoulder, holding a red scrap of material in its beak. That was the signal. Seated on Despair's back, Harvester raised in the air, Death descended upon the Order, followed closely by his kin.


	4. Parting Ways

They knew the Horsemen were coming.

As soon as the Riders broke the treeline, hordes of demons charged out of the camp. Death slashed his way through; Despair did not break stride. The other Horseman were not quite as lucky, War and Fury forced to dismount and battle on foot.

"Pale Rider," The angel with the lion helmet sneered.

"Ipos, I presume. What is your reason for being on Earth before the seals were broken and threatening the balance?" Death dismissed Despair and approached the three other unearthly beings on foot.

"Look around you, Horseman. These humans, they follow our orders without question. They would give their lives, commit the most heinous of acts, if only we give the word to do so. These hounds do not deserve Eden," Ipos snarled.

"They are brainwashed!" Death shouted.

"Details, details," Ornias lilted, "I'm far more concerned with the human _you _have been toting around. What value does she have, hmm? Do you think to trade her to Vulgrim for trinkets? Or perhaps she is your pet, a plaything, really? Ha! I bet she hardly fits around your-"

"Would you just shut up?" Death interjected, bringing a hand to his face.

"How dare you tell me to..."

Death drowned out the vexing shriek of Ornias's voice. How an angel could have the voice of a demon, he would never know. Sighing, Death called upon his necromantic abilties to summon three ghouls. Ornias's blabbering turned into a shriek as he tried to take to the air.

"No you don't," the Rider threw his hand in a Death Grip, latching on to the fleeing seraph's ankle. With a quick yank, Ornias crashed into the ground.

Suddenly, Death felt a biting pain down his arm. He turned his head to find a flaming arrow buried in his right shoulder blade. Scoffing, he yanked it out, the obsidian head drawing chunks of red muscle with it.

"What was that supposed to do?" Death queried to no one in particular.

"Distract you from this!"

The Nephilim jumped out of the way just in time. One of Isares's thin swords slashed through the air where his head had been.

"I've always wanted to kill a Nephilim. Too bad you got to them first," She taunted.

Growling, Death charged. Drawing Harvester as a single blade, he swiped down at the demon's feet. Isares jumped over the blade, smirking. She had an opening. Twisting to the side, she planned to swipe both swords at his unguarded back. Just as the wicked steel was to meet flesh, Death split Harvester into two and knocked the twin cutlasses away. With a grunt, Isares fell to her knee, swords buried in the earth.

Wasting no time, Death returned Harvester to its single form, stabbing up into the demon's ribs. Gritty black blood burst from her mouth as the kinslayer used the handle of his weapon to vault over her, ripping out the blade to stab the heel into her back. He split Harvester once again and dug one sickle into her supporting leg, pinning her to the ground. Mercilessly, he slashed in front of him.

Isares's head made a dull, wet thud as it hit the ground.

Death was pulled out of his bloodlust as he listened to Strife fire a volley of shots and curse to himself. He looked around. Ipos was gone.

"Damn shapeshifter," Strife swore as he lowered his guns, striding over to Ornias's blubbering form.

"Please, it was all his idea! He made me do it! He threatened-"

"Shut your damned mouth," Strife commanded, picking up the angel by the collar. He cocked Mercy and pointed it at the other's forehead.

"Strife, put your weapon away. We need him alive to bring before the Charred Council," Death interrupted.

"Who put you in charge?"

"I feel as though we've gone over this before, brother," Death drawled.

'Hmph'ing, Strife dropped the sobbing angel. Death made sure that his other siblings were accounted for before heading back to Blythe's vantage point. When he reached it, he saw the woman looking up at the sky.

"Blythe?" He called.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," She smiled down at him.

"One of them got away,"

"I know, I saw,"

Death nodded, confirming that she had been paying attention to their raid.

"How am I going to get down from here?" Blythe asked.

"Jump. I'll catch you,"

Sighing, the woman crouched on the edge of the stump, teetered for a moment, then leaped off. Death caught her under her legs and back easily.

"Well, I'll be damned. I owe you one, Fury," Both turned their heads to look at War, leaning his heavy frame against a tree with a rather shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Death still did not release Blythe, turning slightly towards his kin.

"How did you figure it out?" He asked nonchalantly.

Blythe looked back and forth between Death, War, Strife, and Fury. Did she miss something?

"Oh, I saw you two sharing the bed and just assumed," Fury waved her clawed hand dismissively.

"Why were you spying on us in bed?" Death cocked his head.

"Well, I had come downstairs to see if either of you were awake and spied a tangle of limbs and sheets, so I decided to leave you to it,"

"Ugh, we were just sleeping,"

"In the same bed,"

"It gets cold at night."

"Mmhmm,"

"Not to interrupt girl's time," Strife interrupted, "But what do I do with this guy?" He indicated the unconscious angel, courtesy of War.

"You and Fury take him to the White City. He'll face trial there before being sent to the Charred Council for punishment," Death explained.

Reluctantly, Strife nodded and stepped through the portal Fury summoned.

* * *

"What happens now?" Blythe asked as she and the two remaining Horseman strode through the rubble of the compound. "I mean, all these people," She stared at the sleeping bodies strewn about.

"They won't remember a thing in the morning. Ipos can't maintain the spell over so many alone. As for us," They came upon a large symbol reminiscient of the one in Blythe's woods, "We go home."

* * *

That night, War slept in his normal room as Death and Blythe milled around downstairs. Well, it was less 'milling around' and more Death watching Blythe obsessively clean everywhere she could reach. Every now and then his gaze would wander down her form, whether that be the sway of her hips as she walked or her rump as she bent over to grab something. Sighing, he turned his gaze to a glass cabinet, filled with figurines and painted figures of singing women and angels, alongside a few of demons and angels locked in combat or embrace. The two most interesting to him were a fairly large and elaborate sculpture of an angel and a demon crossing blades midflight, and a faded painting of a cloaked, skeletal figure with a spear at its back clutching a dying woman to its chest.

"Death?"

"Hmm?" His gaze snapped up from where it was resting on her tantalizing hips.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," She giggled as she turned to her kitchenette. She was focused on putting a few glasses in their proper places when she felt Death come behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She listened to him sigh as he placed his cheek atop her head. Blythe set the glasses down and placed her hands on Death's muscular forearms. She murmured his name and motioned for him to lend her his ear. He lowered his head to her shoulder. She whispered in his ear. He nodded and chuckled, discarding his mask and turning her around to face him.

Blythe's mouth felt dry as she met Death's eyes. They burned brightly, as they had in her dream. A curtain of black hair fell of of his left shoulder, casting half of his face in gentle shadows. Everything around them seemed to sharpen and become more defined. Blythe noticed the small scar marring the right side of Death's jaw. Death noticed Blythe's parted, red lips. Slowly, Death moved his right hand to tangle in her hair. In one swift movement, Death lowered his mouth to hers. Blythe was stunned for only a second before she returned the kiss. She ran her delicate hands up his chest and locked them behind his neck, toying with a lock of his hair. Gently, he picked her up and set her on the counter, pushing back the cups she had oh so carefully arranged. He stood between her thighs, supporting himself on the counter with one hand while the other rested on her thigh.

Soon, Death pulled away, earning a disappointed whimper from the woman. He chuckled as he trailed kisses down her neck, earning yet another whimper as he reached her collarbone. He opened his mouth and drew his tongue along her neck, up to her ear. He whispered something to her, lowering his head back to bite her neck gently. His inhumanly sharp teeth worried the skin, causing Blythe to squirm. She let out a short cry as he bit harder, breaking the skin and drawing blood.

He laughed softly and returned to her lips, catching her full bottom lip with his teeth. The short burst of pain cause her to gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. He allowed her to fight him for control of the kiss, gasping and allowing her victory when her hands brushed the skin above his belt.

Blythe broke the kiss, gasping for air. As she recovered, Death picked her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to their shared bed.


	5. An Unexpected Turn of Events

Blythe yawned and stretched. She rolled over, sprawling across the bed. She felt very well-rested; that was the best sleep she had in ages. Frowning, she noticed that she had an empty feeling within her. Her eyes snapped open.

"Death?" She sat up, pulling the blankets to her cover her shoulders. Someone screamed outside.

Dragging the blanket with her, Blythe tiptoed down the carpeted stairs and into her living room. From here, she could hear piercing, terrified screams and triumphant yells and roars. _What the hell?_ She thought, furrowing her brow. Cautiously, the woman pushed open her sliding glass door and stepped out onto the lower deck.

The peaceful valley was now captured in a raging war. An army of angels was swiftly cutting through another of almost human looking creatures. Some possessed horns, few others wings. Drawing her eyes over the battlefield, she saw three people on horses cutting through their kin.

'War, Fury, Strife, where's Death?' She thought.

She heard a thunk behind her, then heavy, trudging footsteps.

"I'm so sorry," Someone choked. Sorrow laced the words. Blythe felt a burning pain in her abdomen when she awoke.

* * *

She sat up with a gasp, wrapping her arms around her stomach. It was still dark out. Death laid peacefully beside her, facing away.

"Just a dream, just a dream," Blythe repeated to the darkness. She laid back down, wrapping her arms around Death's neck. In his sleep, he turned over and placed a hand on her waist. She took advantage of his unconsciousness to scan his body again. His muscular frame stretched his gray skin taut. Blythe took notice of the tattoos on his shoulders and ran her fingers over them. Death stirred and opened his eyes for a moment. She smiled warmly at him. Death returned the expression and pulled her closer to him. She tangled her fingers in his hair as his hands slid up her back, pushing her shirt up as they went. He paused for a moment at her bra before slipping it off of her and tossing it on the floor behind him.

"How the hell did you-?" Blythe was utterly confused. Death chuckled and pulled her tight against him, her thin nightshirt the only thing separating them now.

"I've been around for a long time," Death yawned. He rubbed her bare back until she fell asleep. He soon joined her in the land of dreams.

(Morning)

Blythe woke up alone; a small panic set in. She dismissed as silly superstition, but she couldn't help the ominous feeling of deja vu settling in her stomach. The carpet was soft and warm to her bare feet as she began to make her way down the stairs. She stepped on something soft. Picking up her bra, she noticed that the straps were snapped off in the back.

'So that's how he did it,' She mused. The stairs creaked softly as she descended. Apprehensively, she peeked out of the sliding glass window. Death was leaning against the rails of the lower deck, his back to her. Blythe slid the door open and stepped out into the cool morning air. Death turned his head to regard her for a moment before looking out over the canyon. He was wearing his mask. After deliberating whether or not to say what was on her mind, Blythe spoke.

"The bed felt empty without you," Death was taken aback. He looked down at the woman by his side. She did not meet his gaze, but all the same he could see a blush coloring her cheeks. In a swift movement, Death removed his mask and grabbed her waist, leaning her back with a hungry kiss. It was Blythe's turn to be surprised. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

"Then I promise to never let you awaken anywhere but in my arms," He vowed breathlessly.

The moment was interrupted by a loud cawing. Death let Blythe stand on her own two feet before addressing the bird.

"What did you find?" Dust sqwuaked and flew in a counter-clockwise circle before switching directions into a figure eight.

"Blythe, go wake up War. We leave in twenty minutes."

* * *

The climb up the two sets of stairs to the uppermost floor was uneventful. The door to the master bedroom was ajar. Blythe stepped in and made her way over to the bedside. War's hair was spread out in a white halo on the pillows. The silk sheets pooled across his hips, and didn't leave much to the imagination.

"War? War wake up, Death says-" Blythe shook his shoulder. Suddenly, War grabbed her and brought her on top of him, one of her legs between his.

"Good morning," War murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

"Uh, yeah, good, uh, good morning," Blythe was distracted by the fact that a) she wasn't wearing a bra and could feel his chest on hers, and b) apparently War sleeps fully nude. He let her up, turning onto his side. He waved a hand at her, telling her that he'd be ready by the time they were to leave.

When she reached the lower apartment, Death was strapping on the last of his armor.

"Where are we going?" Blythe asked, walking to the kitchen to grab an apple.

"Another stronghold, smaller than the last, but well armed,"

"Sounds dangerous," Blythe tossed the red apple up in the air and caught it in her hands again.

"Exactly why part of me wants you to stay here," Death leaned over the edge of the counter opposite her.

"And what does the other part want?" Blythe shifted towards him, her nose inches from his mask.

"The other part cannot bear to let you out of my sight."

* * *

The two Horseman rode swiftly through the trees. Their surroundings were a blur to the human with them; she instead concentrated on getting her story straight. She'd have to run it by Death to see about the details she might have forgotten or glossed over, but she was confident that she remembered everything.

**_BOOOOOOM!_**

Blythe was flying through the air, a ringing in her ears. Everything was upside down. Where was Death? Where was War? She hoped they were okay. Feathers brushed softly against her skin as someone caught her, flipping her around so that everything was right side up. Her vision cleared. Someone was holding her by the waist very tightly. Was it Death? No, Death's over there. And so is War. Then who...

She could see Death tense. He said something but she couldn't hear him over the ringing in her ears. Someone spoke behind her, she knew because their chest vibrated. Death crossed the twin blades of Harvester in front of him, growing more and more agitated by the second. Cold metal pressed against her throat.

Then everything went black.


	6. Anomalous Stripes

Death was never one to be familiar with fear. After all, why should he? Nothing was more terrifying than he himself.

At least, that was what he believed until he saw Blythe lying in a pool of blood. Ipos stood over her body, sword dripping her blood. He smirked.

"That's the trouble with these humans. They break so easily," He said, chuckling at his own cleverness.

Death was upon him in an instant, moving faster than the angel believed possible. He barely raised his sword in time to block the double-fanged attack of Harvester. The impact of the metal sent red blood flying off the angelic blade. It stained Ipos's wings and marred Death's mask, doubling his fury. He kicked the angel in the stomach, sending him back several feet. Just as Ipos recovered, Death was in front of him again, black and purple smoke pouring off of his body and obscuring their vision.

Ipos coughed, trying to prevent the smoke from entering his lungs. He coughed again, though now because Harvester was buried in his chest. He opened his eyes. They widened when he realized the massive cloaked figure before him was Death. The angel fell to the ground and lay there, twitching, gasping for breath.

Death returned to his normal form. Panting, he looked at the object of his hatred one last time before running to Blythe's side. War crouched beside her, trying to dam the crimson river flowing from her neck. Death watched the rise and fall of her chest slow, and finally, stop.

"No..." Death sighed, "Not again..." This would be the second time he had lost his mate.

War removed his hands from the fatal wound as Death grasped Blythe's form, pulling her against him. Her brown eyes rolled open, staring blankly into nothingness. Gently, Death passed a hand over her eyelids, shutting them so that she may know peace. He knew that the lives of humans were short, and that they were fragile, and he knew that he should forget her and move on to the Charred Council to report, but he couldn't. He couldn't leave her here. He had to get her back. But how?

"Brother, all may not be lost," War spoke quietly. Death raised his head to look at his younger sibling skeptically.

"Perhaps, perhaps, the Charred Council can be convinced to revive our witness. Angels would rather believe that their own were in the right than conceive that they can be corrupted. A witness with nothing to gain or lose regardless of the verdict would be ideal to them," War explained.

Death was silent for a moment. It was the only option he had. It was the only option _she _had.

It had to work.

* * *

"Why do you bring this empty vessel before us, Horsemen?" One of the large stone faces that made up the Council growled.

"She is our witness to the crimes committed by Ornias and Ipos-"

"You and your kin are not enough to convince the angels of the wrongdoings of those that threatened the Balance?" The second face questioned.

"You know that the angels do not trust us. They do, however, hold humans in high regards. It could not hurt to have a fifth witness. It would only speed the trial along," Death tried to keep the desperate tone out of his voice.

"Hmm..." The faces rumbled. Blythe was lifted out of Death's arms. She glowed with a golden light.

"We shall consider your offer. But, in order to revive this body, you must find its soul," A large portal opened, showing a distorted black and white landscape, "Be swift, and perhaps you can find it before it is reincarnated,"

Death needed no more prompting to step through the portal and into Purgatory.

The first thing Death was aware of was the eerie quietness in this realm. No wind blew. No birds sang. The world was shrouded in a deafening silence. Dust crowed, startling him. The green bird circled over his head before flying west. Death summoned Despair and followed. The sound of everything seemed to be magnified tenfold. Despair's breaths may well have been the roar of an army.

The silence and stillness did nothing to calm Death's mind. If anything, the complete lack of any threat put him on edge more than any enemy he had ever faced. This world stretched on forever in silence, how would he ever find-

"And a very good day to you, sir,"

Despair reared and neighed, startled by the sudden vocalization.

"What in damnation?" Death growled as his horse calmed. He looked down to where the voice had originated. There was nothing there.

"Well, I'm over here now,"

Death's head snapped up, catching a glimpse of pure black. Ten stripes floated in midair. Death cocked his head at this anomaly. What a strange realm. Yellow eyes popped open in front of one end of the creature.

"What the Hell are you?" Death wondered aloud.

"I could ask you the same thing, but I already know that, don't I? What brings you here, Kinslayer?" The stripes floated up and down and around in circles.

"I am searching for something I lost," Death answered cryptically.

"Ah, but is anything ever really lost? For the moment it is truly lost by one is it not found by another? And is something ever truly found?" The stripes replied.

"I don't have time for riddles," Death turned Despair towards the direction Dust was headed.

"Too bad. A woman who was quite excellent at them passed by not an hour ago,"

"Wait, what did you say?" Death turned back to the anomaly.

"Yes, yes, indeed. She was quite the character. Quite matter of fact with me, she asked me where she might find her home and I told her and she went there, she did,"

"Where did she go?" Death hoped that he and the anomaly were speaking about the same person.

"Ah, if you want an answer you must give me three first!"

"Fine, what is your question?" Death sighed. He wasn't in the mood to threaten or argue.

"One day a woman is walking down a road,"

_Blythe meandered down the dull gray path. It stretched on forever. That damned striped thing had tricked her._

"She comes to a fork in the road. On the ground there are two signs..."

_Blythe looked down at the faded signs. One read: "ALL WHO LIVE HERE LIE", while the other read, "NONE WHO LIVE HERE LIE."_

" A man is walking down one road, and the woman sees him."

_"Hello," Blythe shouted. The man seemed startled before walking over to her, smiling._

"What question can she ask him to get to the Village of Truth?" The stripes finished, glee in its/ their eyes.

"That's simple. She points to the other path and asks if he came from the village in that direction. If he says no, then she is pointing to the lying village. If he says yes, she is pointing to the village of truth,"

The stripes' mood fell.

"Alright, second question, a farmer has a fox, a chicken, and a bag of grain. She must take them across an old bridge, but she can only take one across at a time. The fox cannot be left with the chicken, the chicken cannot be left with the grain. How will she get them all to the other side?"

_"You're shitting me," Blythe stared at the fox, chicken, and bag of seeds in front of her. Then she looked at the rickety bridge to her right. _

_"Please, miss, we need to get over there!" The fox pleaded._

_Blythe sighed. This was gonna take a while._

"Still simple. She takes the chicken across, then goes back and grabs the fox. She takes the chicken back to the other side, then takes the grain across. Then she crosses back again to get the chicken,"

_It had taken seven trips, but everyone crossed the bridge. Blythe sat down and leaned back against a tree. That chicken was really heavy._

"Fine! Fine! Fine! Last question! I do not breathe, but I run and jump.I do not eat, but I swim and stretch. I do not drink, but I sleep and stand. I do not think, but I grow and play. I do not see, but you see me every day. What am I?"

"A leg." Death answered quickly.

_"Oh dear God what the fuck?" Blythe stared in horror as a disembodied leg hopped towards her menacingly. She threw a rock at it. It disappeared. Something, or someone, rather, appeared in its place._

As soon as Death answered the final riddle, the riddler screamed in agony as its body tore apart. Despair disappeared back into the ground. A portal appeared where the anomaly was. Death stepped through.


	7. Reunited and it feels so Uh oh

"Death!" Blythe shouted. She ran to the horseman and wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling all the while.

"You realize, if you were anyone else, you would lose your head," Death stated flatly.

"Gee, I missed you too," she replied, letting go of him.

He laughed and removed his mask. Blythe had never been so happy to see his smug face. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently. He could nearly taste how much she missed him. When they parted, Death pushed a strand of gray hair behind Blythe's ear.

"So can we get out of her now, or are we just going to stand here and stare at each other for eternity?"

Death chuckled as he replaced his mask. Despair trotted out of the ground and snorted, fiery mane flowing wildly.

Death and Blythe were content to spend the ride in silence, enjoying each other's company. At least, until Blythe finally had to satisfy her curiosity.

"How old are you?" Her voice cut through the silence.

"Very old," He replied flatly.

"How old is very old?"

"Older than your world,"

"Wow. You've been around longer than people,"

"Your people, yes,"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your world circles a void alongside countless others, some populated, others not,"

"Oh. Hm."

Silence settled among them once again. Blythe started to nod off, until Despair reared back.

"Huh, what happened?" Blythe jerked awake.

"Whatever you do," Death murmured urgently, "Do not fall asleep here."

It was easier said than done. Death kept talking to her, asking questions that she had to think on to answer. Relief washed over her when they finally reached the purple, swirling portal. An image of a hellish cavern that looked like the inside of a volcano rippled in the center. Taking her hand, Death led her through the portal, and to the Charred Council.

* * *

**"Is this the human you spoke of, Horseman?"** One of the gaping stone faces asked. Blythe looked nervously at the intimidating statues. And at her corpse. It was strange. It must be the out of body experience that so many people described.

"She is indeed. Will you uphold your end of the deal?" Death challenged.

_"Do not seek to insult us, Nephilim. We keep our promises," _the second face hissed.

Blythe gasped as her soul returned to her body. She was lowered to the ground slowly, giving her enough time to end up on her feet. She looked at her hands, turning them over and staring at them. She felt, different.

_"We have gifted you with eternal youth, child of Eden. But be wary, a sword shall still slay you,"_ The second face sounded almost gentle. Another portal opened, this time showing a realm that was nothing but an endless expanse of ash and dust. A solitary, bone white tower cut through the expanse of nothingness.

**"You are responsible for her health until the trial, Horseman."**

Death took Blythe's hand and led her through the portal. Ash swirled around their feet as a gentle breeze picked up.

"Where are we?" She asked, staring at the rather plain tower.

"My home," Death took a few steps forward, stopping when Blythe did not follow.

She said nothing, but looked at him incredulously.

Death suppressed a laugh. He turned back to the tower and extended his arm, palm facing upwards. He clenched his hand, but an unseen force seemed to stop him from making a fist. The ground shook as the tower began to grow, ash sliding off of its windows. Soon, the tower was joined by another, and another. Blythe stared in awe as a huge, pale palace shed the dust that concealed it. She followed absently as she was led inside, marveling at the beautiful architecture. It resembled nothing she had ever seen before. It was, otherworldly.

"You live here?" Blythe turned around herself, staring up at the intricate carvings on the high ceiling.

"_We _live here," he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. She looked back at him and smiled. They stared at each other for a moment, both simply glad to be together again.

"Let me show you where we sleep," Death let go of her.

Blythe turned to face him, standing on her tip toes so that she could whisper in his ear.

"Oh, I don't intend to do much of that tonight."

Death grinned lustfully.

* * *

(Several months, maybe even years later. I don't know, I'm not that good with timelines.)

Blythe looked at herself in the mirror. Was it just her, or were her boobs bigger? She sighed, which evolved into a yawn. Fatigue had plagued her for the past week. She chalked it up to learning simple spells from Death. He hadn't been able to teach her how to summon ghouls, but she could control the ones he did. She smoothed her knee-length black dress. Death had let her travel back to Earth- or Eden as she learned it was originally named- to gather her things. It pained her to leave the place her family called home for generations, but it was a necessary loss. Maybe one of her distant cousins would swing by during summer and discover that she was gone, maybe they'd find the note she left, saying that she was travelling abroad for a job offer.

Or maybe they wouldn't.

The gray-haired woman strolled out of her and Death's bedroom. She planned to search for her lover; he was off doing whatever it was he did. Just as Blythe reached the stairs, she stopped, gripping the railing with all her might.

* * *

Death's head snapped up from the ancient scroll he was reading. A second scream pierced his ears. He rushed out of his library, following the sounds to a winding stairway. Cautiously, he drew harvester and crept up the steps. He nearly dropped the ancient scythes when he saw his mate, doubled over and crying.

"Blythe, Blythe tell me what's wrong," his voice was even, but he felt panicked.

He didn't like feeling panicked.

"It, hurts!" Blythe screamed again, clutching her stomach. Death wrapped his arms around her in a soothing embrace, trying to calm her down.

She screamed into his chest, the sound broken by sobs.

* * *

Death watched Blythe lazily. She rested in a large, ornate bathtub filled with warm water. It was the only thing that soothed her pains. He reached out and brushed a gray-black lock away from his mate's face. A smile spread across her face and she opened her eyes, brown stared into red.

"I love you, you know," as cliché as it sounded, she meant it with all her being.

"And I you," he replied.

A look of concern overtook the human's face. She placed her hands on her stomach, an odd gleam filled her eyes. She grabbed Death's hand and pulled it under the water, placing it on her abdomen. He was confused for a moment, until he felt it.

Something kicked against his hand.

Blythe stared up at him, half proud and glowing, half unsure and afraid. Death wanted to cry out in joy, but he knew that celebration would have to wait.

"We can tell no one."


	8. The End and The Epilogue

Each day, Blythe's pains grew more bearable. They were dull aches compared to the pains of nearly eight months ago. The woman sighed, running her hand over her swollen stomach. She grunted as her unborn child shifted into an uncomfortable position. The door creaked open as the soon to be father entered the room. His mate looked over her shoulder at him, then back to her reflection in the mirror.

"You spend an awful lot of time watching your reflection," Death laughed.

"What can I say? Vanity is my only flaw," Blythe answered airily.

He was about to retort about it being her 'only' flaw, but decided against it.

"What should we name him, or her?"

The question caught Death off guard. He thought for a moment.

"I like Cain."

His voice sounded oddly innocent for a horseman of the apocalypse.

"Hmm. We'll just have to make sure he only has sisters," Blythe smiled at her mate.

"What?"

"Well, because -oh," her suggestion was cut off by a grunt of pain.

"Are you alri-"

"OUT. NOW."

Death was taken aback by her demanding tone. So taken a back, in fact, that he walked himself out of the room before he realized what he was doing. He waited outside of the door for what seemed like hours, curious about what was happening. Each time he tried to open the door, he was met with insistent shouts of 'out.'

"Death," her voice sounded tired, worn out.

He opened the door cautiously, not wanting to be shouted at again. Blythe lay on their bed, propped up by pillows, holding a bundle to her chest.

"Would you like to meet your son?"

He was at their side in a second, peering down at his son's face.

The child possessed his father's gray skin, save for a pale birthmark covering his face that resembled a skull. His eyes fluttered open. They glowed red briefly, before returning to brown and closing.

Death reached out to touch his progeny, but tensed just before he made contact with the unmarred skin.

"They're here."

Many things carried on his voice. Sorrow. Pain. Anger. Remorse. Fear.

Blythe did not know that he could feel fear.

Death reached up to his mask and removed it, setting it in his love's arms.

"Your mask?" She didn't understand.

"If I'm going to confront my brothers one last time, I shall fight them face to face," he kissed her one last time.

"You remember what I told you to do?" Death's voice faltered.

Blythe wanted to tell her that she loved him, that she wouldn't let him face the other horsemen alone. But all she could do was nod. Dust flew to her shoulder out of nowhere, pecking idly at her shirt.

"If Dust fades, then you will know that I've failed."

Blythe nodded again. She felt numb. She felt like she was trapped under ice.

"My son, I regret that I won't see you walk, nor hear your voice,"

Tears began to pool in her eyes.

"You talk as though..." Blythe choked. Death could not meet her gaze.

* * *

War, Fury, and Strife dismounted their unearthly steeds, coming to a standstill across from their elder brother. He had discarded his mask, and now stood in front of them, clutching a divided Harvester.

"Why do you stand against us, brother?" Fury asked indignantly.

Death remained silent.

"You know the child will upset the balance," War pleaded.

Death's grip tightened.

"Stand down brother. The Council sent us for the child, not for you," Strife ordered.

"His name," Death growled.

"Is Cain!"

Death charged his sister and brothers. If he could kill the entirety of his race, he could kill them.

Fury leaped out of the way, drawing her fiery whip. Strife back pedaled, barely making it out of Harvester's path. Only War was too slow to dodge, instead blocking the scythes with Chaoseater. The elder and younger brothers were at a stalemate, equally matched in strength if not size. Death was forced to jump away as Fury's flaming whip cracked near his head. He skidded to a halt several feet away. Sheathing Harvester, he stomped on the ground, sending veins of purple light cracking through the ash. Hundreds of ghouls clawed their way up, growling and groaning. War and Fury set to work dispatching the undead, but Strife saw through the ruse.

The ghouls were meant to distract the horsemen while Death crept up and executed them. Strife vaulted over the ghasts, shooting at his least favorite brother. Death joined him in the air, Harvester held out to his side. Bullets pierced his body, but they had little effect. They met with a clang. Death landed on the ground, Harvester held to either side. Strife's lower body hit the ground first, joined by his torso and head, which rolled away and was crushed under the foot of a ghoul.

"Strife!" Fury shrieked. She dropped her whip and all but flew at Death, claws extended and ready to rip through flesh. Death tried to block her first slash with Harvester and succeeded, but the second was too fast, and she scored a long slash across his face. He cried out in shock, dropping his blades and stumbling away. Fury continued to slash at him, rarely successful as Death avoided nearly all her attacks.

"Stay still and let me hit you!" Fury demanded.

"If you're wondering why I know all of your moves," Death reached out and grabbed hold of Fury's neck with one hand and held her arm with the other.

"It's because I taught you how to fight, I taught you all how to protect yourselves!" Irrational rage overtook his normally even voice. He ripped her arm away from her body.

Fury fell to her knees, gripping her bleeding shoulder. She glared at Death, even as he removed her head, blood staining his blade.

The corpses of ghouls lay scattered over the battlefield. Strife and Fury were gone, but where was War?

Before Death had time to answer that question, the massive blade of Chaoseater pierced his chest. He sputtered and coughed up blood. War withdrew his weapon from his brother's chest and allowed him to fall to the ground on all fours, clutching his gaping wound.

"Please brother, do not make me do this," War pleaded again.

Death looked over his shoulder at his younger brother. He held his sword over his shoulder, ready to strike his last remaining kin down.

'No,' Death reminded himself, 'Not his last.'

A tear slipped out of War's eye.

'How weak.' Absalom's voice echoed in the dying horseman's head.

"We share blood," Death's voice and gaze were accusing, "But you are not my brother."

Chaoseater fell. Now the ancient race of the Nephilim was down to one.

"No, not one." War said to himself. He looked up at the white palace that concealed his last kin. Just as he was about to start towards it, the ground shook with an incredible explosion. The bone white palace began to collapse and crumble, and all War could do was watch.

* * *

Blythe watched Dust flutter weakly on the ground. She clutched Cain to her chest, knowing what was happening but refusing to believe it until the bird stopped moving, and crumbled into dust. Tears streamed down the widow's face.

A breeze blew past her ear, ruffling her hair. She thought she heard a voice whisper her name, but that couldn't be right.

Blythe steeled herself, and stepped through the portal, leading to one of the worlds the Nephilim passed through. Death had assured her that it was a safe world, alive but uninhabited. She and Cain would be safe there.

At least, that's what he said.

**END.**

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Cain rested his chin on his hand, and his elbow on his knee. His dull brown eyes watched a bird dance on the wind, then fly away. He pushed an inky black strand of hair away from his face; the rest was tied back loosely. The same lock of hair fell into his eyes again, causing them to glow red in frustration.

"Having trouble, little one?"

Cain turned his head, watching his mother sit down. His eyes followed the white mask tied to her hip.

"I'm hardly little, mother. I'm at least a foot taller than you," Cain attempted to sneer, but ended up growling in frustration as his hair fell in his eyes again. He tried to blow it back, but only made it worse. Blythe laughed and tucked the rebellious strands behind his ear in the way only a mother could, and they stayed.

"Thanks, mom," Cain smiled, a bit embarrassed.

"Of course, little one," Blythe smiled back. Her son was adorable when he was embarrassed.

Cain touched the bone-white mask attached to his mother's belt.

"Tell me about my father,"

"How old are you now, eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Please don't try to change the subject. I want to know, I need to know who he was,"

Blythe sighed. She stared out at the pale blue mountains in the distance.

"Your father, he was feared by everyone in their right mind. His name was Death, Horseman of the Apocalypse,"

"He was a horseman?! I thought that they-" Cain blurted out.

"Listen to me. I-I don't know what happened before he became a horseman, but they were all brothers and sister, the last of a race called the Nephilim. Half demon, half angel. Now all that's left are the other horsemen and you. But that's only back story. I met your father when he and the others came to Earth, searching for some very bad people who were causing chaos in my home. I helped them, but I paid with my life. Your father, he refused to let me go, and traveled to the realm I was stuck in, a strange place called Purgatory. He reunited my soul with my body and we were happy together, until-"

"Until you had me," Cain finished for her, his voice harsh.

"No, no don't you ever think that. Don't you ever believe that you did anything wrong. We knew the risk. We knew that they would come for us. We refused to hand you over. Less than an hour after you were born, your father faced off with his siblings. I don't know if he managed to kill any of them, but I know that he was overwhelmed eventually. Then I escaped here with you. I know he never got the chance to tell you, but your father loved you. _I _love you. I- let me show you something," Blythe untied the string that ran through the eyes of the late horseman's mask. She handed it to her son, who took it and looked back at her strangely.

"Put it on. Trust me."

And Cain trusted his mother. He placed the white mask on his face.

Suddenly, he wasn't on the grassy hill anymore, sitting next to his mother. He was on a dark plain that stretched farther than he could see in all directions.

"Cain?"

The half-breed whipped around to see a man who looked almost exactly like him, but broader and older.

It couldn't be.

It had to be.

"Father?" He whispered, stepping closer.

"Hmm, yes and no," Death tilted his head to the side as he pondered.

"What do you mean by that?" Cain also tilted his head. Now he knew where that quirk came from.

"I'm only a fragment of his soul, when he was slain by War, he tried to reach you and your mother, but I was the only part of him that was able to bind to the mask,"

"What happens now?"

"Now? Now you have a choice. You can stay here with your mother for the rest of eternity, or you can avenge your father's, _my_, death,"

"How do I do that?"

"In the far north, you'll find a broken tower. Within that tower you'll find a demon named Vulgrim. If he's remembered his end of a bargain I made with him before you were born, he'll point you in the right direction. I was able to slay Fury and Strife, the weaker of my siblings, but I have a terrible feeling that they have been resurrected, though not as they once were. War is the one who killed your father. The youngest, the strongest, but the slowest. Ride, my son, and avenge me."

* * *

Cain gasped as he ripped the mask away from his face.

"What did he say to you?" His mother asked, concerned.

"What I needed to hear," he replied, standing. He whistled, calling Despair to his side. Cain pulled himself onto the spectral horse and opened his mouth to say goodbye to his mother.

"Wait, I have something for you," she hurried back inside their one story, three roomed home. It was more of a cottage, really.

She soon returned, holding twin, oddly curving blades. They started at a small handle, then curved abruptly away into a long, single-edged blade.

"This is Retribution. It's a very old weapon of Nephilim design, in fact your father was the one who crafted it. I know it doesn't look like much when I hold it, but don't let that fool you," Blythe held the handles of both blades in one hand. Before Cain's eyes, the blades became a bow. Blythe drew the string back, causing an ethereal arrow to appear. She let go, the arrow flying out over the plains until gravity caught up to it.

"Here, it's yours."

Cain gratefully accepted the weapon from his mother. When he touched the handles, the blades increased in size, going from four inches to almost two feet in length. What had once been small notches in the harsh curve of the blade became long spikes, suitable for ripping flesh. He looked down at his mother, who watched him proudly.

"Make them pay, Cain,"

He nodded and urged Despair onward, quickly flying down the hill.

"I love you!" Blythe shouted.

"Love you too!" His voice carried back to her faintly.

She watched her son until he was but a speck on the horizon.

* * *

**AN: I want to thank all of you for reading this story until its end. I know I'm not usually serious in these parts, but I really want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are the ones who inspire me to keep making these stories, and through your support you give me the confidence to let my heart bleed into these words. Sorry, I'm being sentimental.**

**I'm working on a drawing of Cain right now, if anyone is curious what he looks like. I have the plot for a sequel in my head that follows Cain, but I need you to tell me whether or not you want that.**


	9. Regarding the Sequel

So the story of Blythe and Death has come to an end, but the story of their son is just beginning.

Read of the travels of the half-Nephilim in Cult Following: The Wrath of Cain.

Also I'd like the sequel to be much more interactive. Tell me your characters, your side plots, anything you can think of that you'd like to see Cain deal with.

I'm certain he'll thank you.

-Your Lady and Mistress

LadyEpic101


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